John wasn't one to get his heart broken. He was too careful. After his father walked out and broke his mother's heart, he vowed to never let anyone leave him in that condition. John made sure to never let any girl, or guy, close enough to break his heart. Relationships came and went and each time John never felt anything when they left, slamming the door, the sound echoing in the space his heart was supposed to be. So why was this time different? John had never had his heart broken but he was pretty sure this was what it felt like. He couldn't say his name; it felt like his innards were being pulled out of his throat when he thought of him. Every and any small little thing reminded John of Sh-him. Tears threatened at every opportunity. John longed for his war dreams back. They were a hell of a lot better than the dreams of Sherlock jumping or worse, the dreams that were normal. The dreams where John and Sherlock were chasing down criminals, the dreams that felt like reality. The crash that followed waking up was worse than any nightmare. The realisation that he was dead that he wasn't coming back and the guilt that came with brief moment of forgetfulness that felt like betrayal. John didn't know if his heart was broken, he didn't know what he felt, but he knew one thing.
He knew this hurt more than any bullet.
A/N This is something I came up with while I should have been studying (oops). Not sure what I think of it but uploading it to let the lovely public decide. The show belongs to Moffat and Gatiss and the original characters and stories to ACD.